Words Left Unsaid
by TheFreelancerSeal
Summary: If he could only see her one last time, surely he would say things that he had meant to say. Surely he would be the man she had loved and not the monster man has feared. Dracula/Lisa one-shot


**A/N:** Ok, I'm branching out into really new territory. It's a new fandom and a new genre for me, so please be honest about how well I did. I guess I'm known better in the Fire Emblem fandom, well somewhat anyway, than Castlevania, but I had the idea, and I wanted to run with it.

Anyway, I had this idea before I was a Castlevania fan, so I didn't think I could do it justice. Honestly, I still don't know if I did it justice, but I thought I could make the attempt, especially after two rebuffs at a request, but that's beside the point. I thought it might make an interesting look into Dracula's very long life, especially after _Symphony of the Night_. I hope you will do.

I've already gone over this a few times, but I'm sure I've still made mistakes. But I hope they don't take away too much from the story.

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><p>An unnatural night lingered on about the stone walls, dotted with spots of age and decay. The air outside the castle was heavy and stale, and that same air seemed to find its way through the cracks and crevices of the outer walls. High above, the sky shook with echoes of thunder that seemed to rattle the foreboding towers all the way down to their bases, as sheets of lightning provided a brief glimpse of a place men had long tried in vain to forget.<p>

Inside one of his private rooms, the lord of this forsaken citadel, Dracula himself, sat in grim solitude, each thunderous boom outside a reflection of all the weight upon his mind, for all things about his domain mirrored him. He knew neither why or how he had returned to this world nor what year of men it was. What he knew however was enough to fill his thoughts for all the years of the earth. Looking up, Dracula fixed his eyes upon a flickering candle, which was the sole source of light for this long-neglected chamber. How he loathed that light, for light was symbolic of truth to some, and he was now faced with a truth too difficult and too heavy to bear. He recalled the battle between him and his own son; it was one of the few things he could remember.

At the time, he had meant to kill the boy, although his son had not been a boy for a great number of years. He recalled how his son had left his side in order to, of all inconceivable things, stand and fight for his mortal enemy, the Belmont family. How Dracula wished he had the same power over his own flesh and blood that he possessed over the multitude of beasts that roamed his halls. If he had, he supposed he would never have faced his only child in mortal combat all those years later, and thus be spared the pain of knowing what his late wife had wished him to know.

_"Do not hate humans. If you cannot live with them, then at least do them no harm. For theirs is already a hard lot"_

Those words continued to haunt the vampire, both during the time he spent in utter oblivion and now that he again walked this earth.

"How can I not hate them?" Dracula asked the stagnant air. "How can I not?"

"Mathias," an unknown voice beckoned just then. He knew not the name spoken to him, and the vampire paid it no heed, although the sound carried with it some strange familiarity. It sounded to him as the sun would if it were able to make its thoughts, warm and gentle as they sometimes were to men, heard. It called again, "Mathias." At once, Dracula scowled at its sweet, almost heavenly, tone, for such things repulsed the dark lord. The count rose from his chair and left the room.

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><p>Dracula knew not where he should go. He dared not leave his castle, and so he began to idly walk up and down the lengths of each hall of his house. Each stride taken was long and hard and his steps scattered dust about in small clouds as he fitfully wandered about his palace of desolation. At times, the vampire heard the maddening roars of his beastly subjects as they too joined him in restless idling. Down a flight of stairs, the count turned down a hall to enter the first door he came to. It was a small room, and much like the others, it was dimly lit with only a few candles. Five long, wooden benches stood in the middle of the room, each towards the right wall. It was a small chapel, one the count had crafted to lure those who dared bear the name of Belmont to this place, so that he could slay them if they thought to turn to prayer. Yet, one thing set this chamber apart from the rest of them. No trace of decay lingered upon its wooden walls and the marble floor saw no chip or crack or dust. All was in order.<p>

Dracula turned his head towards the altar at the far end of the room. With solemn strides, he passed the leading row of pews to gaze at what he had placed there. He had no pulpit or cross to revere, for they were symbols of all he had set himself against. Instead, a single portrait hung over the altar, framed by gold that shimmered in the soft candlelight. It was a portrait of a woman with golden hair. Her face was forever saddened, yet her eyes held a gentle softness that even the hardened figure could hardly resist. The count's eyes began to water as he looked upon her face. A single word escaped his lips, unable to remain within him.

"Lisa," Dracula said softly. Yes, it was his wife he gazed upon. He had dedicated this sanctuary to her, hoping that the last thing his enemies would see before he saw them leave this earth was the one he had loved, the one stolen from him. Her face preserved there only drove another deep wedge into whatever remained of his earthly heart. Often, Dracula had thought to rend the portrait and be rid of the sight of her, and yet he could not bring himself to do so. He found the face of his wife too beautiful to destroy as the fires had done so many years ago. "How can I do what you have asked?" the creature of the night asked the air. At first, only silence met his ears, but then another sound rang sweetly inside them.

"Mathias," the same voice echoed. The vampire furrowed his brow at the sound of it. He had long discarded that name, and it seemed as foreign to him as any notions of goodness towards man. Sweet as the voice was, Dracula loathed it.

"Who are you?" the count muttered through clenched teeth. "What torment is this that such a voice should come to me in my own house?" Looking about the room, he shouted, "Show yourself. If you come to bring me to my end, then have at it. I know not what sorcery you use to hide yourself, but undo it and face me if you bear the name Belmont. Have at it if you wish and meet your doom." When no figure appeared before him, Dracula returned to his idle gazing. But it was not long after that the voice called again.

"Mathias," it said, this time clearer, as though it was nearby. The count remained still until again the voice called him again, and again the creature did not acknowledge it. "Turn around," the sweet sound bade him. Dracula let out a low breath and tightened his fist. Surely an enemy stood behind him. He had earlier felt the presence of flesh and blood enter his domain, and he was certain that the foolish mortal now stood behind him, although he wondered why it called him by a dead name. He reasoned that since no strike had glanced him, he would do his foe the honor of a quick death. Quickly he turned to face his attacker, but he stopped in mid-strike when he saw his visitor.

It was a woman, youthful and fair, who stood before him. Her face was radiant with warmth and love. Her eyes glistened like precious stones, and a cascade of golden hair coursed from her lovely head. She was clad in a seamless gown of white that shinned as the sun. She appeared not to touch the ground, yet she neared the vampire with slow, graceful steps. At once, Dracula growled at the visitor, for he knew that the woman was of Heaven.

"What do you want of me?" the vampire snarled. "Haven't you and your sort caused me enough ill? For over a thousand lifetimes, I have been wronged by your kind. Is it the wish of your realm to prolong it?"

"Mathias," the woman repeated sweetly. "I have no desire to cause you ill. Please, listen to me, Mathias." Dracula sneered at the woman and took a step back.

"I have no regard for that name. It belongs to a dead man. I am Dracula, and if you do not desire to cause me ill, rest assured I shall cause ill to you."

"Do you not know me?" the angelic being asked. "Has your heart darkened so that you would not recognize me?" Dracula approached the woman and stared deeply into her glowing face. Despite the light, harsh against his eyes, he detected some trace of familiarity in her face. He glanced behind him at the portrait and then turned back to his visitor. All at once, his eyes widened in awed recognition.

"Lisa," he said in disbelief. With a contented look, his wife nodded. "Can it truly be you?" Dracula asked.

"It is," Lisa replied gently. The vampire reached out to longingly caress her face as he had wished to do for the many years with her that he had lost. The angel held up her hand, silently halting the hand of her former husband. "You mustn't touch me." The vampire took a step back, his face twisting into a visage of uncertainty.

"You come to me and say I cannot touch you? Oh, I see. You may not touch an impure being, such as I."

"I said nothing of the sort," the spirit said, though it sounded very much like a rebuke. Her voice softened as she spoke again, "I do not know what would happen to you if you were to touch me. If I could know, I would gladly allow it."

"But you cannot," Dracula remarked in a rather sharp tone. "Why do you come to me, Lisa?" At his question, the face of his long dead wife fell in sober propriety, as though she knew she had no reason to bring cheer into this darkened castle. The angelic being looked past her husband to glance the shrine, and she shook her head with a heavy sorrow that the count thought strange for one such as she.

"Why have you made me into an idol for yourself? Do you hold me in such regard that you would give me undue worship? You should not have put my portrait here."

"I wished to have something left of you. Is it such a sin to want to hold on to something of your life? When you were alive, I'm sure you would have been flattered that I would not only have your face painted but that I had it placed so prominently."

"Then you did not know me well enough," Lisa stated. "I wonder what became of the artist who painted this."

"I killed him," said Dracula, turning his eyes away from the spirit of his wife. He heard the frightened gasp, but he did not see her take one step back or her hands fly to her mouth. "I dragged him from his home, forced him to paint as I dictated under the threat of death, and when he was finished, I let Death have him as he deserved. I would think you would know that, considering where you now reside."

"I cannot see all things, Mathias."

"Is that so? I'm quite surprised at that."

"You assign me too high of an honor, and I cannot abide being compared to what I am clearly not."

Silence crept into the chapel once more as husband and wife regarded each other with undisturbed sobriety. Neither knew what words to speak to each other, if any could be spoken at all, and though Dracula could peer into the thoughts of men, he could not read the mind of a spirit. When the vampire could bear the crushing stillness no longer, he spoke at last.

"Why do you come to me?" the nightly creature asked again. He had expected Lisa to smile, to brighten as her glowing visage, but she remained somber. "Will you not tell me?"

Lisa took a step forward, and Dracula eyed the faint outline of her leg as it appeared against her skirt. "Look me in the face," said she, taking note of his ravenous face that surely would have caused her to flutter when she had joined him in marriage. When he did as she bade, Lisa continued, "My time is not long on this earth, and I have come to ask you, no to beg you, Mathias. Please, put an end to all that you have done. End this pointless war you have declared." At this, the vampire sneered.

"Why would you ask of me a request that you know I refuse to honor, Lisa?" asked he with a forlorn face mingled with rage in his eyes, yet he expressed such anger not. Could she not see the foolishness of such a question when he had long ago dedicated his crusade to her? "I cannot do this, nor will I consider it."

Lisa took a step forward with a saddened and almost prayerful expression as she held up her glistening hands. "Please, Mathias, please reconsider your course of action, if not for your soul than for mine." Dracula again sneered at her, and he turned his face away. He walked a few paces to one of the long benches before he sat down, still refusing to look upon her.

"My soul," said he as though he was contemplating the very idea that he even possessed one. "My soul was forfeit long ago. In fact, why do you care if I should have one to save or not? Your kind does not suffer mine. In fact, I am that which stands against your dwelling. Tell me, Lisa, does your god care to save me or is it only you?"

"Surely, you know the answer to that, my love," Lisa answered. "I knew you had read the Holy Word when I had met you. I knew you had been scarred, but surely even in such a state, you would still know the truth. Perhaps you may yet be cured of this terrible thing you have inflicted on yourself if you will but let the Lord do it."

"You mean my powers over the creatures of the night?"

"Yes, Mathias; give this up, repent of it, be free of it." The count laughed. It was not a laugh of one amused, but it was a horrid, monstrous sound that came from his lips.

"You suppose that I want to be free of this. My dear Lisa, there is nothing in this life for me except this. There is no salvation for one such as I, and even if there was, I would not accept it."

"You can't mean that," Lisa stated in utter shock that he would speak such ill words.

"What can your god offer me? He is the one who has done this to me." Before his wife could speak again, the count sprung to his feet and stepped briskly into the aisle to face her. "You would not dare say otherwise, for I have told you everything. I labored in His name in the Holy Land, and he took my wife away from me."

"You cannot blame God for the death of your first wife, Mathias," Lisa chided. "It was His will to take her, yes, but her time had come. If it is of any comfort, she is in His presence now. But what you have done saddens her and me as well." The vampire growled in blind anger and paced restlessly back and forth, unsure of what to say.

"You admit that your god took her from me after all my service. I would think that such an act is hardly a reward for all I did."

"God does not owe you recompense, and only a fool would think He does. If you wish to say you labored, you labored on behalf of men, not on behalf of God."

"You lie if only to put me at ease. Even if I cannot blame Him for Elisabetha, I can blame Him for your death."

"God is not responsible for my death, and you should not hold Him as such. It was the people who killed me, and it is for their sakes and mine that I ask you to forgive them."

"I should not?" Dracula shouted. "His people killed you. They took you and burned you all to keep His word. And you tell me I should forgive them for it."

"What did you do that day?"

"I did exactly what I should have done. I found that mob, and I sent each one of them into the depths for their crime against me and against you." Lisa shook her head sadly, and she sighed a weighty sigh, as heavy as the bells of the castle towers.

"They were afraid, Mathias. It wasn't right for them to do as they did, but they acted on fear. And if you thought to have them tormented for it, you have failed. Many of them now sit with me, and I bear them no ill, and neither should you. They are sorry for it."

"Oh, yes, they acted in fear, but they knew nothing of fear until I showed it to them. I will not forgive them of this. If granting murderers a place at His is side is your god's view of justice, then I say it is no justice at all!"

"And what is your view of justice, then? Would you truly kill those who were not even born when I was alive? How have they earned your wrath?"

"Simply by being human," Dracula stated in fury.

"Would I have earned your wrath then? And for that matter, who appointed you their judge?"

"I am not bound to the appointments of anyone. And you are not like them, Lisa, so I would never harm you. Although, I should have made you as I am before you continued to hand out medicine to an undeserving race."

"So, you would rather act on your own interest?" Lisa asked. "When I married you, you said you would never feed on me, and now you wish otherwise."

"I meant it, but why did you have to continue your work? Could you not have turned your eye from them?"

"I could have, but I would not." Her husband could only scoff, and Lisa tilted her head in uncertainty. "You would have wanted me to turn a blind eye to the sick and suffering? I cannot believe even you, selfish as you are now, would have wanted such a thing."

"People die, Lisa," said Dracula. "You had told me that it was the way of things. Why should you interfere with that? You could have lived with me, raised your son, and then lived for eternity, but you would not." Again, Lisa looked upon him with confusion in her radiant eyes.

"_My_ son," she said. "You do not claim Adrian as your own? He is as much your son as he was mine."

"My son died to me when you did," Dracula snapped. "It is all the more proof that humanity is worthy of all that I have given it. He holds me in contempt, and he has for countless years. Why, we have even met as bitter enemies in battle because he holds to the foolishness of his human side. I tried to train him, Lisa, but he would have none of it. His human side, your side, turned him against me."

"Why can you not see it? You have turned Adrian against you by your hand. If you wish to blame someone for him, then do not blame me. It was your doing and yours alone."

"What is there for me to see?" Dracula shouted. His hands tightened into fists and he turned his back on her. "You have wasted your time, Lisa!" he said in a slightly calmer voice, though still thick with anger.

"Please, Mathias, please let this go," his wife continued to plead. "Can you not see what this has done to you?" She quickly crossed the distance towards him. She knew not what would happen, but she wished to embrace him as she once did. She laid her hand upon his shoulder. Perhaps it was because they were both beings not of the earth that she was able to lay her hand upon him. As Dracula felt her touch, at once a great rage was loosened within his black heart. Her hand stung him as a hot iron, and he stiffened; how dare she place her hand upon him.

"Don't touch me!" Dracula roared, turning sharply around and striking Lisa upon the cheek, though he knew it not. He moved with such force that his wife fell to the ground. Their eyes met briefly, and Lisa recoiled at the face glaring at her. The eyes of the vampire burned with a shade of deep red, as though they carried the flames of the pit within them. His sharp fangs were as daggers in his mouth, and Lisa quivered at the sight of them, for he had not shown them to her in life. A low growl rumbled in his throat like the snarl of a hungry beast. Quick, pained breaths came from Lisa's mouth, and already her face bore a red mark, though it quickly faded.

At once, Dracula realized what he had done, and his body, large and imposing, shrank down. The fire in his eyes turned to ash, and his fangs hid themselves from sight. He looked at his hands with shame that he had struck her. He reached out to her, but Lisa would not accept his hand. She stood to her feet and regarded him poorly. Her eyes narrowed as she began to speak.

"I see I have wasted my time, for you are not my husband," she said. She looked back towards the door of the chapel. "My time grows short." At once, the vampire fell on his knees before her.

"No," Dracula pleaded. "I am sorry, Lisa. I didn't mean to lay a hand on you. Don't leave me." He reached for the hem of her gown, but his wife brushed the cloth aside and away from his fingertips. The count recoiled, wounded by the act. Lisa looked down upon him with hardened and yet saddened eyes, as if it pained her to treat him as though she had never known him.

"It is true," Lisa uttered softly. "Your heart has darkened so greatly over these many years that you would strike me in anger. As I said, you are not my husband. How could you be after all this time?" He stood to meet her gaze, but she did not return his eyes.

"It was an accident, Lisa. Surely you must know that, for I would never harm you."

"But you have, and you have done so all these centuries. For every time you have killed a man or taken a woman or even menaced an innocent child, you have harmed me. Was our time together worth so little to you?"

"It was worth more than you could ever know," Dracula stated, though he sounded close to shouting, for he was being prone to anger. Again he stepped back, aghast at his voice, "Please, forgive me, Lisa."

"What do you know of forgiveness?" the spirit asked. Silence followed, until at length, she looked again towards the door of the chapel, and Lisa turned to go. "I must go, now. Whatever peace is left for you in this world, I hope you find it. Farewell, Dracula."

And then she was gone as quickly as she had appeared.

Alone again, the vampire stood in silence, stricken dumb by what had happened. The last words of Lisa resounded through his mind. Though he had accepted that name with pleasure so many years ago, it stung him now as though he had been struck by the whip of the Belmonts. Dracula breathed heavily the stale air about him, panting heavily with grief and rage, until at last he sank to his knees in despair. Tears, warm and wet, streamed down his cheeks freely. Lisa had rejected him, and though he had lost her long ago, it felt as the mere cut of a thin knife, for now he had not only lost her, but she had denounced him.

"Why?" Dracula asked through the sobs. At once, the grief turned to a blind rage, and he rose sharply to his feet. He wished to act, to kill, to ruin, and he set his great strength against the room about him, for now even the resemblance to a church repulsed him. He threw the pews about as though they were made of straw, and smashed them with ease. With a loud cry, he continued until the room was as broken as his fortress. And then he saw it; the portrait of Lisa that he had treasured. With steps of vengeance, he snatched it from its stand and rent it from top to bottom, casting the shreds to the floor.

He hated her now. He hated the woman that he had once loved. If she had stood before him in the flesh, he would surely have killed her, or even better, thought he, that she had never existed. The vampire wished that her name would no longer resound through his thoughts, her face, beautiful and pure, no longer appear in the eye of mind or the fire of her goodness stab at and sear at his heart. Every trace of his dead wife he now despised with the same fervor as he did her kind. But Dracula was certain that Lisa was not entirely to blame, and he turned his hate-filled eyes heavenward.

"I swore revenge against You," the count seethed, hoping that among the prayers of the earth, his evil words would be heard. "I swore that I would fill the earth with the blood of the worthless race You love. And now, I swear that I will not cease my war, but I will strive all the harder to see it accomplished. May Your people rot like the waste that they are! And, as for you, Lisa, I hope that the hurt I have caused you increases with every life I end. I will not rest until you are as empty as I, if that is at all possible. Hear me, Lisa! Hear me and know that I wished I had never laid eyes on you!"

Just then, the presence Dracula had felt earlier drew nearer. Whoever had dared enter his castle was growing closer. Surely only a Belmont would be so foolish as to challenge him. The vampire left the chapel to return to his throne room. He would lie in wait for his prey, and when he claimed the last ounce of blood from his victim, he hoped Lisa would see it and cry in the same sadness that had only moments ago visited him.

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><p>When, at last, the doors of his throne room burst open, Dracula smiled with a wicked face. Time seemed to delay the passing of itself as he sat and waited, and now he would have his first victim. The vampire sat back with glee as the steps of a Belmont tapped against the marble of the floor. The footfalls, however, sounded far too light for a man of his enemy's family, and at last he saw it was not a man but a young woman coming to face him. She was not of the hated bloodline, that much was certain, but oh she was a lovely thing, with long ebony hair and creamy skin that peaked out from her sleeveless clothing. The eyes set her apart from normal women, for he had never seen such a cold gleam, like that of a sword staring back at him. At once, he felt a heat overtake him as a terrible lust tugged at him.<p>

"Such a lovely maiden," he cooed. "Are you the one to whom I owe this great pleasure? Tell me your desire, child. Is it eternal life you seek? A place at my side?" The woman did not flinch at his words as he had expected. Instead, she merely set her gaze firmly upon him.

"I am not your benefactor," said she with no trace of fear or any emotion behind her words. Her dead voice only served to arouse the vampire further, and he resolved that if she fought him, he would overpower her. He thought only of the terrible pleasures he would inflict upon her if only to spite the woman who had earlier visited him.

"No? Then please, tell me of yourself," he stated with all the airs of a nobleman. Already he looked forward with eagerness to the coming battle where he would take this young girl, barely even at the age of twenty by his guess. "Surely you've realized my company comes at a price. Tell me, who are you? What is your name?"

The woman maintained her calm demeanor, and the vampire found it odd for a mere human to act in such a way. "I am the blade to banish all evil," she stated, ignoring his question in part, "and I've come to see you annihilated. The time of your destruction is at hand; die, Demon Lord Dracula!"

The vampire smiled again as he rose from his throne. He laughed at her, for surely she knew how foolish it was to come against him with no weapon at all. He would enjoy this, and he would ensure a quick end to this meager duel. After that, Dracula was certain that he would have his way with her. It would be slow and merciless, as this woman deserved, and it would surely be a suitable wound to Lisa. With a licentious grin, he spoke, "What an amusing woman! Come to me, child; I haven't danced in ages!"

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><p><strong>AN:** I figured Dracula might need a little motivation to continue trying to wipe out humanity after facing Alucard in battle, especially since he seemed so sorry for what he's done after hearing Lisa's last words. I also figured this would be an interesting 'what-if' scenario. What if he could see Lisa one last time? What would he say to her and vice versa? I also figured that after too many years of bitterness, he would feel differently about her goodness. So I didn't think it would take too much to turn his love into hate.

As for my little bit at the end, that was, as you can see, taken straight from _Order of Ecclesia_. Why you ask? Well, after looking over the timeline, I realized that it was the next title in terms of chronological order after Symphony.


End file.
